Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
She sits there watching, wondering what could have been. She is happy with her life, yet she can't help but question where she is in it. She wonders how it would have all changed if they were, or ever had been, together. Would they have made each other happy? Or would it have been one fight after another, screaming, jealousies, tears… Would they have said hurtful, tearing things, words that leave scars on the heart? She can envision it now, the anger and hurt escalating, the two of them saying things they don't mean… eventually saying things they do mean.
It would have been terrible.
A flash of white passes by her now, but she pays it no mind. She is too busy trying not to let her mind wander to another future, one she allows herself to visit only when she sleeps. There were still fights, because no future would be possible without them. But they were good-natured fights, mere bickering really, with laughter behind the words and no real sting to them. She knows that this future is unlikely, but she, for one, would have been willing to give it a try. It would not have been easy, but it would have been theirsShe would have been a key player in all of it.
Now she was merely a spectator.
She is the only one of her friends not standing up there, but she knows it is for the best. The Ministry Official is saying, "If there are any here who know why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace."
Inside her head she is screaming, screaming, screaming, but her mouth stays firmly closed. She has made her choice, and she will not interfere in what his decision is. The pause in the ceremony seems to last a lifetime, and in the silence, she begins to bargain with herself. If he looks at her now, shoots her even the faintest glance, she will speak. She will tell him what she should have told him years ago. All it takes is one glance and she'll proudly announce that she loves him so very much, and even though he might laugh in her face, at least he'll know. She won't have that secret glowing inside her, poking and taunting, forcing her to look at cold reality every day and what could have been.
The glance never comes, the ceremony proceeds, and her moment is lost. His stunning eyes never leave the face of his bride, and for the first time since she sat down, tears threaten to flow. She has to force herself to watch as her best friend and the woman in white share their first kiss as husband and wife. She can't help but wonder if it would be she instead had she only confessed her secret years ago. She finds she can't wonder long however; it hurts too much, and she is so tired of hurting. She begins to plan her escape while the reception begins, hoping she can make her exit quickly so that no one will feel the need to converse with her. She hopes that he won't find her; that she can leave and forgo the conversing with the newly married couple. She knows that if she is required to look into his eyes, congratulate him, maybe even hug him or shake his hand, she might just melt into a puddle of misery. She has seen him hugging anyone who will stand still long enough, and she fears that she is next. After all, it is only a matter of time before he finds her in this dark corner, and she honestly believes that if she has to touch him, the world will end. Her world.
She sees him glance around, his face falling from a beatific smile into a confused, slightly hurt frown. She knows that he is looking for her, and that knowledge becomes too much. Clinging to the shadows and trying to ignore the tears streaming down her cheeks, she tries to locate the door that will lead to her freedom. Fresh air awaits her, and the chance to disappear home. She just has to make it there unnoticed.
Alas, it is not to happen. He has detected her presence and in her distracted state, she crashes into him and is only prevented from falling by his support. She blushes furiously at first but gains control quickly, staring up at his laughing face.
"I've been looking for you all day! Where've you been?" His voice is full of joy, only to be expected on his wedding day. His eyes sparkle, and she is surprised that he can't hear how quickly her heart is beating.
"Just… around. I talked to your family for awhile, and then just relaxed," her own answer seems inadequate, lacking, and insincere. She wonders if he can hear the pain in her voice, but he doesn't seem to notice. She can't tell if this makes her feel better or worse. The tears have dried now, and there is no evidence that they ever existed. She mentally curses her complexion, the tones of her face that hide everything. The smile on his face is killing her, and she thinks that at the very least, he should be able to tell.
"I still don't see why you weren't up there with us…" His voice is petulant, though teasingly so, and her heart screams out for mercy; the sheer familiarity and comfort between them is stabbing at her like a thousand knives.
"I told you, it just wouldn't have been a good idea. Take my word for it for once, please," is her muted, evasive reply. She can't tell him the real truth, which is that she could not have endured it. That his wedding would have been ruined by his best friend running from the hall, tears streaming down her face as they threatened to do now.
"I just don't see why you can't tell me. It would have meant a lot to have you up there with me." His tones have changed now, become curious and inquisitive, and there, finally, is that damned look in his eyes, the look that always made her wonder if there was something more than just friendship to the two of them. She wonders for the millionth time if he is doing this on purpose; if he knows just how much control he has over her emotions, and if he enjoys it.
"I'm sorry. I'll stand up with you the next time you get married," she half-heartedly replies, trying for a joke. She knows that she would give anything to stand up with him if he ever got married again – not just with him, but beside him. Yet another answer she just can't give him, and she finds herself wishing this conversation is over. There's just too much emotion in this room, and she can't breathe.
He looks as though he is going to say something, and the feeling in his eyes has intensified, but after a few moments, he merely laughs and nods. "Yeah, definitely next time," is his only answer, and he shifts uncomfortably.
Silence. Her best friend and worst enemy. There are a thousand things that can be confessed in a single silence, and she doesn't want him to know any of them.
"Well, I should get going. Unlike some people I know, I have to get to work early tomorrow." She knows that she is begging off early and is terrified that he'll ask her to stay longer, but he must want to keep things hidden too, since he merely nods in response. They both know something is different, but neither one of them will admit it. It risks a friendship that neither of them can lose.
"Yeah, well, thanks for coming."
"You know that it was no problem. I wouldn't dream of missing this." No, she only dreamt of this in her nightmares.
"I know. Love you, Hermione."
"I love you too, Ron."
Then she is finally out the door, running, running, running before she remembers that she is a witch and can Apparate. She returns to her flat, her lonely flat, and flings herself down on the couch. She knows she won't be able to make it to her bedroom tonight, because as soon as her body hits the cushions, the storm of weeping overcomes her and she is helpless in its stead. Eventually, the sobbing subsides, and she is left exhausted and overwhelmed. Sleep enters now, weaving a sanctuary around her tired body and taking her into its loving embrace.
And in her sleep she dreams of a future. It is not a future that is possible for her to live, not after today, but it is a future nonetheless.
A/N: I didn't feel it was necessary to name the bride in here, because this could be any real pairing in Harry Potter between a male and female character. I merely happened to choose Ron and Hermione by chance; feel free to insert your favourite pairing yourself to make the reading more enjoyable and personalized.